Sweet Side Effects
by Yuu-chi
Summary: Prussia being sweet doesn't come often. Canada is more than willing to take advantage of the chance; destroyed kitchens and possible uses of maple syrup notwithstanding.


**For Rainbows4eva on the **_**Adopt a Yaoi Pairing**_** secret santa. I'm so sorry about how late this is!**

**Merry Belated Christmas! **

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><p><strong>Sweet Side Effects <strong>

Canada awoke to the smell of something burning and the sharp hisses of foreign curses.

The later was nothing unusual given Prussia inability to be quiet once he'd risen in the morning and his nasty habit of forgetting the layout of Canada's house and stubbing his toe rather painfully on a doorframe or two. Even after being together for neigh on ten years, his hot headed boyfriend still seemed unable to make it from the bedroom to the kitchen without injuring himself in-between.

Prussia, once injured, was rather incapable of being quiet about it. He'd curse and moan and bitch until Canada had awoken and he was able to wrangle a kiss out of him 'to help the pain'. All in all, it made for a fairly decent alarm clock without the unnecessary purchase.

However, the former – that worrying scent of smoke – was a new one.

Generally, Prussia was fairly good when it came to not touching things that he may cause to spontaneously combust when Canada was still asleep; well, after that first incident with the television about a year and half back.

It was mildly surprising, but the German nation was rather technologically illiterate.

The kind of technologically illiterate where things caught fire if he was left around electrical devices without supervision for too long. Canada himself could attest to that.

A loud crash echoed down the hall and was promptly followed by a venomous string of German curses.

Canada was inclined to be a little worried about this.

Slowly, Canada pushed himself up right, flyaway curl bouncing lightly on his pale forehead as he pushed his hair – how did it always manage to get so messy when he slept? – away from his face, sliding his thin legs out of bed and slowly pulling a shirt – haphazardly discarded the night before – over his bare chest before cautiously making his way towards the source of the noise.

The nauseating scent of smoke wafted easily through the halls and Canada found himself frowning as he followed the incriminating trail in the direction of his kitchen. His wonderful, wonderful kitchen with so many expensive appliances so as to better make pancakes with.

_What the hell was Prussia doing in the kitchen? _

Lightly pushing the ajar door open, Canada peered into the clouded room, bracing himself for the worst but hoping – he supposed vainly – for the best. Like… Prussia had left some bread in the toaster for far longer than needed. He always did get distracted by the morning funnies in the newspaper. Or maybe in the space of last night and this morning he'd taken up smoking – don't ask why, it just seemed to be the safer option at the moment.

Instead, the slight nation was greeted with the sight of his long-time boyfriend hunched over the stove looking frazzled as he poked at something – rather dead looking, Canada admitted privately to himself – that was sitting meekly at the bottom of a frying pan with a spatula.

All around the former nation was a disaster zone. The benches were covered in some sort of dangerously brown looking mixture and the linoleum was white with a light dusting of flour, the bright yellow of egg yolk standing out cheerfully from pale floor.

_My lord… Had Prussia tried to cook? _

Faintly alarmed at this turn in events Canada took in a deep breath, only to regret it instantly when the acidic smoke in the air gleefully whirled down into his lungs, burning his throat painfully on the way down and making his eye water.

Prussia – fortunately unaware of the adorable nation in the doorway – continued his attempts at salvaging whatever it was that he was attempting to cook, letting out an undignified yelp when the blob actually caught on fire, singeing his pale hands lightly as the flames licked greedily up the sides of the blackened cookware.

"_Gottverdammt_!"

Deciding this was perhaps an opportune time to intervene, lest his house be burnt down, Canada swiftly dashed over to the stove and seized the flaming pan from Prussia's hands, turning sharply to drop it in the sink and turn the tap on, watching as the fire evaporated with an accompanying _hiss _and foul smelling smoke wafted upwards to tickle his nostrils unpleasantly.

"Err… Morning Mattie."

Prussia had the grace to look properly embarrassed as he stood amongst the ruins of what was once Canada's beautiful kitchen – was that maple syrup on top of the fridge? – running one hand though his messy white hair while the other picked absently at a dark stain on his cheek.

"Gilbert," Canada said softly, as he turned away from the sink to look his boyfriend seriously in the eye, "what did you do to my kitchen."

There was an awkward silence as the Germanic nation averted his eyes and tried discretely look for a way to diffuse the humiliation of being caught with egg in his hair, milk all down the front of his awesome new shirt and perhaps a few blobs of maple syrup clinging desperately to his skin with their sugary suction-like goodness.

"It's… Well… _Scheisse… _I was trying to cook you breakfast." Prussia felt a light amount of colour building up in his cheeks and quickly frowned and scrubbed at his face to try and hide the totally uawesome blush.

Canada blinked.

"Make breakfast… For me?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Prussia snapped defensively.

Canada was immediately suspicious. Was it their anniversary? No, it wasn't for another few months and besides, Prussia couldn't remember it to save his life. Was it perhaps _his _birthday? No, he'd know because everyone would be fussing about America… Did he forget something important then? Did they fight recently? Had Prussia gotten drunk and puked in his garage again? Was France passed out naked behind the sofa and Prussia was trying to distract him from the hideous sight by setting half of his kitchen on fire?

"Um… Why?" Canada finally asked after concluding that he didn't _think_ that today was an important date of any kind and he was fairly sure they hadn't had any arguments recently and no, after craning his neck discretely to the left, there were no unconscious rapists in his living room.

"What do you mean _why_?" Prussia blinked.

"_Why_ are you making breakfast – well, _attempting _to _–_ for me?"

Prussia actually looked faintly hurt at this and Canada had an unpleasant roiling feeling in his gut like he'd kicked a polar bear, but _honestly _it was a fair enough question. Prussia had never cooked a day in his life since he came to 'crash' at his place – he'd been crashing there for about five years. Canada assumed that meant he was more or less living there but had never broached the subject for fear of damaging Prussia's pride.

As far as the albino was concerned, he'd made it clear that he found cooking to be 'totally unawesome' and left all of the meals up to Canada; an arrangement which they were both fairly comfortable with. Prussia was not a really picky eater and always crooned about how superbly awesome his maple syrup and pancakes were – it was admittedly nice to get a little praise every now and again.

"Can't a guy cook breakfast for once without it being a national crime?" Prussia grumbled as he tossed the spatula he was still holding back down onto the bench and picked glumly at the egg in his hair, showing not an ounce of interest in Canada.

"Sorry Gil. It's just… I thought you couldn't – I mean, didn't _like _to cook." The small nation had much practise when it came to softening the weight of words that may or may not send people spiralling into deeper depression and Prussia was apt to flare up at being told he 'couldn't' do something.

"I don't," was the snappy reply as Prussia stood their covered from head to toe in a variety of fresh ingredients, "I just… I don't know… Thought I'd make _you _pancakes for once or something…"

Canada blinked and carefully considered his response, finally settling on a rather surprised, "Oh."

Surprised though he was, it wasn't the bad kind of surprise, such as he received when he'd awoken to find his kitchen turned into a warzone, but rather a more pleasant _good _kind of surprise, the kind of surprise that was tinged with a nice feeling of warmth and love. It wasn't often Canada was subjected to this kind of surprise, and while Prussia was a more or less caring lover – a little reckless and inconsiderate at times, yes, but that was just his nature – and a whimsical person, it wasn't all that often he tried to surprise Canada with something like breakfast in bed.

"Yeah, I know. It sucks."

And there Prussia was, standing before him with yolk dripping out of his hair and a crestfallen expression lurking just beyond that forced grimace as he discretely tried to wipe what Canada suspected was a few drops of milk off his cheek. It was such a heart-warming sight that Canada just had to step forward and gently wipe the muck off of his boyfriends cheeks, offering up a soft smile.

"Not at all. I think it was sweet. Admittedly, I would have liked for you to make less of a mess in my kitchen, but the thought was nice," after a moment of consideration he added seriously, "But you can't cook. Thank you anyway."

Prussia actually gave a smile at this. Canada gave him a playful swat on the arm. "Go and take a shower. I'll clean up and have breakfast ready when you get out."

He left with minimal fuss at this. While Prussia may have wanted to do something nice for him, his immature mindset failed to register the fact he'd actually wound up merely making a mess for him to clean up instead. Not that he minded all that much. Prussia being sweet was such a rare occurrence he'd gladly up any number of messes as a trade-off.

Half an hour or so later Prussia emerged dripping and half naked from the bathroom, clad only in jeans as he absently towled his hair dry, and was greeted with the welcoming smell of pancakes cooked just right full of cinnamon and maple perfection.

Canada – god bless his outrageously adorable soul – was leaning over the stove with a small smile and gently giving the pancakes a prod to make sure they were a delightful golden brown, the kitchen spotless around him. If you hadn't seen it twenty minutes ago you'd never believe it had looked like someone had murdered a buffet in there.

"Smells good," Prussia murmured as he let the towel fall to the ground and wrapped his arms tightly around a slender waist, resting his chin neatly in the crook of Canada's neck were it fit just perfectly.

"I'd hope so," he joked lightly, "I've been doing this for long enough."

"You have a bizarre obsession with pancakes," Prussia observed.

"Haven't heard you complaining about it."

"Of course not. Your pancakes are fucking awesome."

"And the maple syrup," Canada reminded him as he deftly flipped when of the goods in the pan.

"And the maple syrup," Prussia agreed, tightening his grip as he breathed in deeply, savouring the mouth-watering mix of sugary goodness and the light tang of the foresty soap that clung to Canada's skin.

A moment passed in silence aside from the light sizzling of the pancakes as they cooked smoothly, allowing their gorgeous scent to flood the house and overpower the disgusting stench of vapid smoke that Prussia had managed to spread throughout the building in a matter of an hour or there about. His Mattie truly was magical.

"… I'm sorry I fucked up your surprise."

Canada's eyes flicked away from the cooking to briefly meet his own, a small smile on his lips – and no, it totally didn't make his stomach flip how utterly adorable his boyfriend looked with his cheeks flushed with heat from the stove and that cute curve to his bizarrely girly lips.

Because that wouldn't be awesome.

"It's alright. I'm just happy that you thought you'd try and be sweet for once."

"Hey! I'm always sweet."

A light pat to his pale cheek that had him feeling like he was a little kid. "Of course you are."

"Is that doubt I hear in your voice?" He growled as he took a step back, dragging Canada with him and ignoring the protesting yelp that slipped out of his mouth as he did so.

"Gil, hold on for a minute! The pancakes!"

"Screw the pancakes," he muttered as he buried his face in Canada's neck, pressing a lingering kiss to the light red skin there and enjoying the small sound of surprise his boyfriend made as he did so.

"You were the one who wanted them!"

"I wanted to make them _for _you," Prussia corrected, face morphing rapidly into a scowl, "There's a difference."

"Well now I'm making them for you instead, so if you could just let me go and fetch the maple syrup from the cupboard everything will be good."

Somehow Canada managed to disentangle himself the lengthy limbs – a feat considering that Prussia was a good deal bigger than him – and scurried back in time to flip his pancake and avoid it burning; although it did like decidedly darker on one side now. He would have shot Prussia an annoyed look for this but the man looked sulky enough without him helping it along.

Letting out a sigh Canada held his hand out for the bottle of syrup as he deftly flicked the stove off and began to shift the pancakes to the waiting plates. Prussia was looking at the bottle thoughtfully with an odd look of contemplation that food – no matter how ungodly awesome it was, such as maple syrup – didn't usually warrant.

"Gil, are you going to pass me the maple syrup?"

Prussia looked up and away from the bottle, meeting Canada's eyes with a decidedly blank expression. Then his face suddenly split into a wide smirk that did _not _inspire confidence within the smaller nation, and he was even more alarmed when Prussia handed the bottle over without a struggle.

Shooting him a worried look Canada slowly turned his back to him and set about drowning breakfast in sugary goodness. Almost immediately he felt arms wrap tightly around his waist again as Prussia embraced him from behind as he was prone to doing.

"… I really am sorry about before Mattie."

Canada remained silent for a moment, unsure about the sultry edge Prussia's tone he'd taken. Finally he said uncertainly, "That's okay?"

"I'll make it up to you though," Prussia asserted lightly.

"O-oh? How?"

He could _feel _the grin against the skin of his neck as Prussia's hands slowly took the bottle from his hands.

"With maple syrup of course."

"A-ah, thanks Gil but I think my pancakes have enough and –."

A chuckle that would have sent a chill down the spine of the devil himself.

"Don't be silly Mattie," Prussia's breath gusted lightly along his warm skin, lips trailing along the nape of his neck as he took a half step back with Canada in his arms and the bottle in his hands, "I have a _much _better use for maple syrup..."

All in all, Prussia being sweet was as rare as a blue moon, but Canada was beginning to think, as he was dragged from the kitchen into a room with far more comfortable flooring for what was no doubt going to be a rough endeavour, that maybe that wasn't such a bad thing, actually.


End file.
